Unless Moira had let that person into the bathroom through the door and returned to the tub (equally unlikely), the intruder must have come in by the window. This meant the person was up to no good in the first place. Would a burglar not just have fled when he saw a drowned body?
There could be little doubt: Everything pointed to murder.
Rex lit a log fire in the living room, and everyone shed their outer layers of clothing and sat down in silence. Helen and Shona brought in a tray of coffee and biscuits. The Allerdice children sat in the window box they had occupied the day before and stared out at the fitful rain.
“I should go muck out the stable and give Honey her oats,” Donnie announced finally, heading toward the doorway.
“Don’t disturb the body,” Rex cautioned.
“How can I disturb her?” the boy asked stupidly. “She’s deed.”
“Just don’t move or touch her,” Flora explained to her brother.
Hamish rose too. “I’ll give the lad a hand.”
“Well,” Estelle Farquharson said when the Allerdice men had left. “I suppose we had better get to the bottom of this. No point in wasting time. Who can vouch for whom all night? Most of us shared rooms, so that might be a starting point. Rex?”
“Excuse me?”
“Let’s start with you and go round the room. Were you and Helen together all night?”
“Aye … I believe so. At least, from the moment we went upstairs.” Rex paused with his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Och, wait a minute now … Alistair came up to the room to discuss a case he was troubled about, and I joined him in the library. That was after midnight. I went back upstairs to get him something. Then I went back to bed and stayed there until morning.”
“I can confirm that,” Helen said beside him on the sofa.
And that’s when Rex remembered—he had woken up late in the night and Helen was not in bed. He dared not look at her. Oh, but surely she would not have caused Moira harm, even though his ex-girlfriend had been a threat to their happiness.
Estelle smoothed her red tartan skirt across her ample hips and crossed her thick ankles. She was built like a tank, certainly strong enough to have pushed Moira out the window, Rex considered. She addressed her husband. “Now you, Bertie. You too must account for your movements.”
“Dammit, old girl,” Cuthbert responded. “My mind’s in a fog about last night. I remember drinking and dancing and so on. I suppose at some point I stumbled upstairs and fell into bed.”
He had spoken to Moira upstairs, Rex remembered.
“You used Rex’s bathroom first,” Estelle reminded her husband. “We both did. Then we turned in. Alistair?”
“Let’s see now. I knocked on Rex’s door because I wanted to tell him about the latest Moor Murder, which I’d just caught on the telly. We sat in the library talking for a while. I slept in there. Mostly dosed, actually. I heard the panes rattling from the rain. It was so loud that the pills Rex went to fetch to help me sleep didn’t work.”
“Shona. Your turn, dear.” Estelle turned toward Mrs. Allerdice with a schoolmarmish expression of encouragement.
“Well, I helped Helen and my daughter with the dishes. There was someone in the upstairs bathroom, so I used the one downstairs. I got up once in the night and found the bathroom on the upstairs landing still occupied. I do remember the radiator leaking all night with a steady drip-drip-drip, but it was sort of hypnotic. Hamish snored away like a donkey as usual.”
Mr. Allerdice was not in the room to object to his wife’s characterization. Rex thought she might not have felt so bold had he been there. And what had she been doing outside?
Estelle looked across at the journalist who was nursing a cup of coffee. “Rob Roy, if you please.”
Rex watched as the man hunched forward in his armchair and frowned in concentration. “I helped Rex put the furniture back in its place after the dancing. When the women had finished taking the plates and glasses away, I made myself comfortable on the sofa and put the blanket over my head. I was awoken one time in the night by a loud thud outside. It seemed to come from ground level. I thought perhaps a tree had fallen in the storm.”
“What time was this?” Rex asked, searching around in a drawer for a paper and pen.
“Not sure, but I’d not been asleep long.”
“What direction did the sound come from?”
“Down the hall by the library.”
“Flora, can you remember anything?” Estelle asked the girl in the window seat.
Rex contained his irritation at not being allowed to direct the line of questioning himself, but so far Estelle was doing a decent job of asking all the basics. He concentrated instead on noting the guests’ reactions.
“Well, actually, I did see something,” Flora stammered, looking up meekly at Mrs. Farquharson and then away through the window.
The people in the room stared at her expectantly. The pen in Rex’s hand stood poised, waiting for the revelation that might solve Moira’s murder.
“Go on, Flora,” Estelle prompted. “What did you see?”
“Well, I could have dreamt it, I suppose.” Flora brought her vague gaze to rest on Mrs. Farquharson. “It was really strange—and quite frightening.”
“Well?” her mother asked, eyes wide as saucers.
“It was a bulky shape on the stairs, with a large, odd-shaped head or else really weird hair.” Flora’s hands fluttered around her own listless brown locks held back in an Alice in Wonderland headband. “Of course, it was a shadow I saw, so it could have been distorted.”
“Was it going up or down the stairs?” Rex asked.
“I’m not sure.” Flora chewed on her lip. “I just shrank back into my room and waited.”
“What were you doing out of your room?” Estelle questioned.
“As I told Rex, I needed to … go.”
“Did you see what time it was?” he asked.
“About twelve-thirty. I locked myself in the room. I was supposed to be sharing with Moira, but since she never turned up, I assumed she was spending the night, ehm, elsewhere.” A flush crept up the girl’s neck as she stole a look at Alistair.
Rex made a note of the time. “Can you tell us anything else about this apparition on the stairs?”
“It—it was carrying a long knife.”
Shona gasped. “A knife! My poor child. Why didn’t you say something before?”
“A knife, eh?” Cuthbert echoed.
“Good God,” said Alistair.
Rob Roy smirked and stroked his beard. “I think you were having a nightmare.”
“It seemed very lifelike.” Flora kneaded her hands together. “I feel foolish for bringing it up. I almost didn’t.”
“Not at all,” Rex said. “At least we know your door was locked as of around twelve-thirty last night. Presumably Moira was dead by then or you would have heard her knock to get in. She wasn’t with Alistair.”
At around the time Flora claimed to have seen the Gorgonesque monster, he had brought the sleeping pill downstairs to Alistair. Or perhaps it had been a bit later. Either of them could be mistaken by ten minutes or so. He had not been aware of any movement in the communal areas of the house, but with so many people staying over, he had not paid much attention. On top of which, the house creaked like an old ship at sea, not to mention the din the radiators made when water gushed through the pipes.
Hamish returned from the stable. “No sign of the ambulance. We really need to get back to the hotel, Rex. Donnie has the pony bridled and is ready to set off. It’s a five-mile hike through the glen.”
“I’ll call 9-9-9 again.” Rex rose from the sofa and picked up the phone. “The line’s dead,” he said in surprise.
“Uh-oh,” said Cuthbert.
“Could be from the storm,” Hamish suggested. “Shona has her mobile with her.”
“Yes, but I can’t find it. I must have put it down somewhere last night. I looked for it this morning. I thought if the hot
el called, I’d hear it and be able to locate it.”
“Who called the ambulance earlier on?” Rex asked the people in the room.
“I did,” Flora said.
“Can you call again, please.”
She pulled the cell phone from her cardigan pocket and flipped it open. “The battery’s flat. It’s a terrible phone—never holds a charge.”
“Who else has a mobile?”
“I do,” Rob Roy said, “but it got soaked in the boat. It might start working again when it dries out.”
“I object to the damn things,” Cuthbert expostulated. “They should be banned from public places—”
“Shut up, Bertie,” his wife interrupted. “We’re discussing a murder. We’re not interested in your peeves just now.”
“Sorry, old thing.” Cuthbert helped himself to a tumbler of whisky, even though it was only mid-morning.
“I didn’t bring my mobile,” Alistair apologized. “I decided to take a break for the weekend.”
Rex sighed. “I left mine behind in Edinburgh too, for the same reason, but I’m sure Helen brought hers.”
“I didn’t, I’m afraid. I left it at home. I was already thirty miles from Derby when I remembered. It was too late to turn back.”
That’s wonderful, Rex thought. Ten people and not one working phone among them. “Perhaps Moira had one. I’ll look in her bag.”
“Good thinking, old chap,” Cuthbert approved.
Rex crossed into the hall where a coat stand held the guests’ outdoor apparel. A tapestry bag, which he recognized as Moira’s, stood on the marble-top tripod table. He rifled through a bunch of keys, a packet of tissues, a couple of lipsticks, and a purse. Careless to leave it out in the hall with strangers about, he reflected. The previous evening when she arrived, she must have abandoned it there before going into the living room to meet his guests.
Perhaps he should check for the phone in the suitcase. He hurried upstairs to what had originally been designated as Alistair’s room and where Flora had spent the night, and sifted through the clothes and toiletries in the leather case in what proved to be a futile exercise. It was bizarre that Moira had left Edinburgh for a place she had never visited before without taking her cell phone with her.
If she had brought a phone, someone must have taken it. That same someone could have stolen Shona’s phone. There was nothing for it but to drive to the village and alert the authorities from there.
“Can I borrow your Land Rover?” he asked the Farquharsons upon returning to the living room. “I’ll never be able to drive up the hill in my car after all this rain.”
“Want me to come with you?” Cuthbert asked.
“I’d rather you stayed behind and held the fort.”
On the spur of the moment, he had decided that Cuthbert, despite his predilection for shooting deer, was more of a known quantity than the other men. Hamish could not be accounted for after he had gone to bed, nor Alistair, for that matter. The two youngest men, Rob Roy Beardsley and Donnie, he knew least of all.
Plus, Cuthbert did not look like he had the strength to force a dead weight through the window, even a wee thing like Moira. As for the women, Rex could not be sure …
He hoped he was right about Cuthbert; Cuthbert had the rifle. Under the circumstances, Rex could not confiscate it.
“Right-oh,” Mr. Farquharson said self-importantly, tossing Rex the keys to the Land Rover.
“Alistair,” Rex began, leading his colleague out of earshot. “Can you keep an eye on the body?”
“No problem. I’ll get my jacket.”
Rex turned back to the group. “Please, all of you, stay in the house. Make yourselves comfortable. I won’t be long.”
“I’ll come with you,” Helen said, jumping up from the sofa. “You weren’t thinking of leaving me alone with this lot, were you?” she asked as they pulled on their anoraks and Wellington boots in the hall.
“Nay, lass.”
“I can’t wait to get away. You can just feel the tension in the house. Shona and Hamish had a huge big row this morning, going at it like hammer and tongs—”
“What were they arguing about?” Rex cut in.
“They were in their room. I only heard raised voices and Hamish calling her a stupid cow.”
“Charming.” But then Shona had been equally uncomplimentary about her husband’s snoring. He led Helen outside by the arm. “Look, there’s something we need to clear up.”
“What about?”
“Last night I woke up to find you weren’t in bed.”
“I must have been in the bathroom. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d take one of the pills I gave you for Alistair.”
“Why couldn’t you sleep?”
“I don’t know … I was tossing and turning, worrying about Moira.”
“What do you mean?”
“She was trying so hard to win you back.”
They stood under the stone porch watching the rain, which had redoubled its assault.
“She seemed quite taken by Alistair, I thought.” Rex flipped his hood over his head in preparation for the dash to the Land Rover.
“You are such a modest fool, Rex. She was trying to make you jealous by singling out the most eligible bachelor in the house. That’s why she so brazenly flirted with him.”
“Oh—I see.”
“Really, Rex,” Helen said almost crossly. “For someone so intelligent, you can be truly dense at times.” She tucked her blond hair inside her hood. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They ran across the driveway to the white Land Rover. At that moment, Alistair approached them. “Look here,” he murmured, rain trickling down his lean features. “Moira’s body has been interfered with.”
“What do you mean?” Rex demanded.
“The tarpaulin has been moved.”
“Is she exposed?”
“Not exactly. It’s as though someone took a peek and hurriedly covered her up again.”
“The boy might have taken a look,” Helen said. “It’s only natural at his age.”
“That’s what I thought,” Alistair concurred. “And he’s not quite right in the head.”
“My bet is equally on the dad,” Rex told them. “He has a reputation for being overly fond of the ladies.” Hamish had stared inappropriately at Helen the previous evening, as he remembered with distaste.
“Not surprising, considering the mousy thing he’s married to.”
“Alistair!” Helen chided.
“Well, what do I know?” Alistair gave a graceful shrug, the shoulders of his gray jacket growing darker beneath the deluge. He stuck his hands in his pocket. “I’m gay,” he added. “In case you hadn’t guessed.”
“I had.”
“Alistair, please see to it no one else is disrespectful to Moira’s body,” Rex implored him. “I should not have let Donnie go back in the stable, but I thought it would be okay if his dad was there too. If I had time, I’d knock Hamish’s block off, even if just for not teaching his son better manners. Look, we best be heading off,” he told Helen.
“We can’t,” she said roundly.
“How not?”
“Slashed tyres.”
“Good God, she’s right,” Alistair exclaimed, walking around all the vehicles. “Every single one.”
When Rex saw the vandalized tyres, he felt ready to bellow and stomp his feet.
“Rex, I’m frightened,” Helen said in a small voice beside him.
“Don’t worry, lass. We’ll get out of here one way or the other. Where’s that boy?”
Glancing about him, he strode off beyond the stable to the meadow, where Donnie stood beside Honey as she grazed peaceably beneath the rain. When the boy saw Rex, he led the pony by the reins through the wet grass toward him. Rex realized Honey was too small to be of any use to him after all.
“I don’t suppose your horse would support my weight, would she?” he asked.
“Och, noo, and she’s right mean-spirited,” Do
nnie told him in his slow, deliberate way. “She’ll throw you just as soon as look at you.”
“She’s looking at me now, and not kindly.”
The pony regarded him with much of the white of her eye showing, while her hind quarters did a little stampede on the spot.
Donnie stroked the length of her furry neck. “She kens you’d squash her.”
Rex was not willing to send the boy to the village on his behalf, even though he would get there quicker on horseback—if he ever got there at all. “Perhaps you should put Honey back in her stall,” he told Donnie. “I think we may all be here for a while yet. And I don’t want you catching a chill.”
The boy obediently led the horse toward the stable. Rex saw the bone-handled sheath knife was still in his belt. Had he slashed the tyres when he cut the phone line? Rex dismissed the idea. The careful planning involved in the murder all but ruled out the mentally disabled boy as a suspect.
“Donnie,” he called after him. “Did anyone borrow your knife?”
“No one,” the boy answered slowly. “I always keep it on me. Da gave it to me for my seventeenth birthday and said not to lose it as it cost more than he could afford.”
“Alistair,” Rex said when he drew near his colleague. “Follow the lad. When he’s seen to the pony, send him into the house. I’d rather they all stayed together.”
“Are you walking to the village?”
“We have no choice. We’ll try to get a lift back.”
Rex took off up the road with Helen, avoiding the worst of the puddles and potholes. The gravel crunched soggily underfoot. The damp chill on his face and the gentle patter of rain on the hood of his anorak made for a dismal walk, aside from the sad nature of his errand.
Someone had murdered Moira under his roof. That was the most logical explanation for all the water on the bathroom floor. The question that haunted him was whether the killer was a guest at Gleneagle Lodge or else an intruder who had snuck into the house with more than robbery in mind.
Rex pondered this last possibility. There were two points of access to the lodge: the front entrance and the kitchen door; and, of course, an unlocked window. The downstairs had been all lit up. Anyone could have peered inside while the inhabitants were partying and crept in at some point, perhaps when they were all in their rooms. He remembered locking the kitchen door, but not the front door, in case Donnie needed to get in the house.
Murder on the Moor Page 7
